


Magic Touch

by trillingstar



Category: Oz (1997)
Genre: Ficlet, M/M, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-25
Updated: 2010-01-25
Packaged: 2017-10-06 18:22:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trillingstar/pseuds/trillingstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lockdown sucks.  Masturbation helps; Beecher helps even more.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	Magic Touch

Lockdown sucks.

Keller's looked at all of his magazines. He's jerked off three times today. His dick's too sensitive. The angry itch of being disciplined buzzes under his skin; he's exhausted, but sleep is out of the question. There are twenty-some channels on outside the pod, but he's only interested in what Beecher's up to.

Or what Beecher could be up to.

Lights out soon, though Beecher's still sitting in a chair next to the bunks, turning pages often enough that Keller knows he's not paying attention to the plot.

Keller stares at him, shoves his hand down into his boxers again. His cock shivers against his palm. Keller closes his eyes, thinks about molding his body to Beecher's back, pinning him down; how he'd keep Beecher captive with just his touch, his voice; he'd rub against Beecher's thigh, mouth moving over Beecher's skin.

Keller jerks out of the daydream when Beecher's hand slides against his, hot and damp with spit. Then Beecher's reaching down, brushing his knuckles over Keller's balls, pushing his fingers inside. Keller's head tips back and he grunts, a desperate noise.

Beecher grins fiercely. "That's right," he says softly. "Come on."

The lights go out. Beecher's fingers move faster. He leans forward and suckles the head of Keller's cock gently, then with hard suction, and then gently again. Keller's hands fall to the bed.

Keller isn't surprised that Beecher got him here so quickly, but his voice still sounds shell-shocked when he whispers raggedly, "Toby, oh god, Toby."

Beecher swallows, licks his lips, and asks, "Better now?"

Keller smiles, stretches, arching his back. "Mmmm," he says. "Mmmmmmm." His eyes drift closed.

Beecher snorts, washes his hands. Keller waits for him to come back.

"Magic touch," Keller slurs.

"You've reeked of sex for hours," Beecher says. "Wound up tight, aching for more than your hand."

Keller opens his eyes. Beecher's unbuttoning his pants, the palm of his hand curving around his dick through the cotton. His stare is trained on the jizz decorating Keller's stomach.

Keller gets a second wind.

"It's a fucking miracle," Beecher says dryly.


End file.
